


Save Me With Your Grace

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: Episode: s02e05, Family, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nobody is Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:44:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8376130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: His head feels full of cotton, he is slumped against the rocks and his arm, when he hears... something. At first he thinks it is something in his head, a noise produced by a dying mind. Then it comes again. Louder, and closer. And a third time: "Francis!"
He knows that voice. He knows it anywhere.
The relief is nearly so overwhelming that his grip could slip free and he could sink beneath the water. It is a miracle that it doesn't. He draws in a deep, shaking breath and yells back. "Ross!"
Ross is here. Ross is here. He knew Ross would come. He knew. He knew he wouldn't let him die.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT HAPPENED IN EPISODE FIVE DID NOT HAPPEN I REFUSE TO ACCEPT IT THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD HAVE GONE DOWN DAMMIT
> 
> ugh. i spent a lot of time sobbing last night and had to keep stopping while writing this to cry some more 
> 
> I do not own _Poldark_.

He is dying.

He realises it with startling clarity, and the initial panic that had come when the water had rushed over his head does not come again. It has already washed over him, chilled him to the bone, left him shaking and shivering for... hours. It has to be hours. Someone will notice he is gone. He has to hang on. Someone will know. Elizabeth will know. _Ross_ will know. Ross... he'll come for him. He'll come for him, just like he did that day in the tides. He will. He has to. Francis believes in him.

Francis also knows that he is dying.

He keeps thinking that someone will come - that _Ross_ will come - and that makes him hold on even tighter. He just has to hang on. Just hang on, Francis. Ross is coming.

He is cold. He is shivering. He is wet and aching and terrified. He regrets not learning to swim. He regrets coming here alone. He regrets having not stayed to wait on Ross to come home. He regrets his outburst on George, he regrets what the man will do to them - to Elizabeth, when Francis is gone and unable to provide. He regrets how his son will grow up without a father. He _regrets_.

A little voice in his head tells him that must not. It tells him not to regret, for he will be okay. It sounds suspiciously like the voice of his cousin, and it contradicts magnificently with the voice telling him that he is going to die here.

When his throat feel raw, he stops yelling. He does not let go. He _cannot_. He cannot...

He wants to sleep. He needs to rest. He wants to switch hands and flex his fingers but doesn't dare for fear of losing his grip and sinking into a watery death. He does not want to die this way. He is.

_Stop_. The little voice in his head is nearly begging. He sucks in a deep breath and lets his eyes flutter shut. He just needs to hang on until Ross finds him. He has always been one of the weakest in the family. He knows this. He will prove them wrong. He has to hang on. He has to...

What was it he was meant to be doing? God, he needs to sleep. He needs to wait. He can sleep while he waits, surely? Then the little voice reminds him - all of his fears come true - that he will die if he does, and he stubbornly struggles to stay awake. It's barely a battle of can or will; he _hurts_. He is exhausted. His hands have gone numb, and his grip is failing.

He is going to die.

One final attempt at panic crawls into his veins. He tries to tighten his grip, tries to kick his feet and tries to push himself up. He can't die, he _can't_ , he has a life, he finally has a reason to embrace it, he has a wife and son, he has reconciled with Verity and he has found copper for Ross. He is worth something. He has built up to this. Everything in his life has been building up to this and he _can't_ die, _please_ don't let him die.

His head feels full of cotton, he is slumped against the rocks and his arm, when he hears... something. At first he thinks it is something in his head, a noise produced by a dying mind. Then it comes again. Louder, and closer. And a third time: _"Francis!"_

He knows that voice. He knows it anywhere.

The relief is nearly so overwhelming that his grip could slip free and he could sink beneath the water. It is a miracle that it doesn't. He draws in a deep, shaking breath and yells back. _"Ross!"_

Ross is here. Ross is here. He knew Ross would come. He _knew_. He knew he wouldn't let him die.

"Francis?!"

"Ross!" He splutters off into a gasping cough, shoulders shaking, body seizing. His grip finally gives and he sinks like a stone. Water crashes into his lungs again; he breathes it in without being able to stop, and without being able to fight the pressure. There is noise. He doesn't know if it's him, if it's Ross, or maybe it's still in his head. He tries to breathe. Sucks in more water.

Somehow, his head breaks water again. He doesn't know how. He can barely draw in the air from his water drenched lungs. He reaches out to find something, _anything_ , and his fingers seize around a hand.

_Ross._ He cannot speak. He doesn't need to. Ross is there. Everything will be okay.

"Francis! Francis, hold on. Hold on, I'm here-"

His fingers slip away. He is holding onto nothing. It does not matter. Ross is here. He will save him. He will protect him. He may not match up to Ross in many ways, but he knows that he can count on him. He will not let him drown.

Francis does not fight the water over his head. He does not stop his eyes fluttering closed, as his body goes limp and darkness sweeps across his vision. He can _rest_ now. Ross has him...

He is only vaguely aware of muffled cursing, of water splashing, and warm arms looping beneath his frozen ones and moving him. He goes without complaint, breathes in the earthy scent of the mine and the indistinguishable one that is Ross, the warm presence against his body. He drifts as Ross pulls him free of the water, and he is drifting as Ross speaks, high-pitched and frantic. He drifts as there is solid ground beneath his back and water rolls down his temples. Ross is here. After everything he had done to his cousin... after _everything_ that had happened between them... Ross has saved his life. Francis will owe him, and this time, he does not care in the slightest. He will owe him gratefully.

There is a sharp slapping noise, and the pain flares across his numb face a moment later. He gasps himself aware, eyes flying open, and Ross is leaning over him. His hair frames his face and worry taints his gaze. It softens slightly when Francis looks at him.

"Francis."

"... Ross," Francis croaks, and tries to offer up a watery smile. He still feels short of breath. Yet? He is _alive_.

"Praise be," Ross murmurs, and then he is leaning back. Francis watches dully as Ross pulls off his coat and drapes it around his soaking form. He realises that his teeth are starting to chatter again. Or maybe they have been this whole time. "Francis. Why the hell didn't you learn how to swim?" Ross demands, and there is barely a hint of laughter in his voice, nervous and relieved in turns. He pulls Francis up - and Francis can't withhold a yelp of pain as the feeling starts to come back to him - and tucks him against his chest like he is a fragile child.

The thought ought to irritate him. But Francis only smiles, even as his head droops onto Ross's shoulder. He'll learn to swim after this. He'll learn to swim after this, he promises himself. It almost seems ludicrous, after this, but he will not risk this again. He is tired, and he is in pain, and _he is alive_.

To his utmost horror, the tears start almost immediately after that thought. Now he completely feels like a newborn babe, held against his cousin's chest while he tries to find the strength for tears. If he has strength left for nothing else, trust that he would still have enough to cry.

Ross says nothing, save murmured _"you're okay"_ s and apologies for making him wait. Francis must imagine that his cousin's voice sounds choked, too. It must be all the water in his ears.

More coats and a blanket seem to get wrapped around him. He barely notices. Ross lends him his shoulder until Francis is certain that now, he will truly fall asleep. It's okay to. He'll see the sunlight again.

Ross must throw him over his shoulder to carry him out, but Francis has no recollection. When he wakes up, he is tucked snugly into his bed and people are surrounding him. He blinks slowly and still wearily, and looks up at Elizabeth and Verity and Demelza and Ross. He can hear Agatha muttering away from somewhere he cannot see. He is warm and surrounded by the people he loves.

Everything is okay.

"Ross?" he asks later, when the touching and tears and joy has dispersed, when Elizabeth's hand is caressing his face and Verity is holding one hand and Demelza the other, after he had held his son and kissed every one of them save the cousin he speaks to now.

Ross turns from Demelza, eyebrows raising in silent question.

Francis looks at him. Tries to convey his thankfulness in his eyes. He doesn't want to say it. He does not need to say it. Ross looks back at him, and he looks happy again. Francis wants to grin, and settles for a small smile. "Would you teach me to swim?" he asks, plaintively as he can.

Ross cracks the grin that Francis cannot yet muster, and his eyes dance with amusement now that the danger has passed. "I should think so!" he replies. "Don't think I'll go easy on you, cousin."

Francis laughs a weak laugh, and halfheartedly tries to bat Ross's hand away when he ruffles his hair. The women look faintly disapproving, but they are all smiling.

Everything is okay, and Francis is home.

 

 


End file.
